A Twist in the Story
by simplyshelbs16
Summary: Sherlock shows up at Molly's flat just as she's trying to mend her broken heart. Broken over whom? A S3 canon divergence taking place directly after the Watsons' wedding.
1. Feeling Sorry

The reception had been lovely, but Molly was glad to be in her pajamas with a pint of chunky monkey. She had broken off her engagement to Tom shortly after the newlyweds departed for what Sherlock deemed as their 'sex holiday.' After popping in her favourite movie, 13 going on 30, she heard the familiar sound of a key in her lock. Toby's head perked up from his cat bed but quickly settled back down. Molly inwardly groaned, as Sherlock was the last person she wanted to see, but from how he left so early, she knew he would need some comforting as well.

"Molly?" he called out. She walked back into the sitting room with another pint but the flavor was his favourite, mint chocolate chip.

"Here, thought you might need this," she smiled at him.

"You're not wearing your ring," he pointed out.

"Just take the ice cream, Sherlock," Molly sighed. It was silent for a moment. "I saw you leave…are you okay? And don't try lying because I know when you are."

"You always see right through me," Sherlock remarked. "No, I'm not alright…too many sentiments in my head right now."

"Your pajamas are still in the bottom drawer if you wanna change first," she offered.

"Thank you," he replied before going off to change, both of their pints of ice cream still on the coffee table.

* * *

"So what are we watching tonight?" he asked, sitting down beside her on the sofa.

"Probably not anything you'd care for," she laughed halfheartedly. Sherlock picked up the case and read the synopsis. Molly bit her lips anxiously.

"Hm, interesting," was all he said. She hit play, wondering if he was going to spout inaccuracies about the movie like he usually did.

They ate their ice cream together in silence, but sat practically shoulder to shoulder…well, if Molly's shoulder could line up with his, it would be. She leaned her head against him after she finished her pint, a strong brain freeze making her wince in pain. Looking up at the man she had been in love with for years, Molly's heart beat fast and the butterflies in her stomach increased.

Surprisingly, Sherlock was very focused on the movie even after finishing his ice cream. Her head still rested against his shoulder. She didn't dare question him when he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to him, his eyes never straying from the screen. Molly allowed herself to revel in the feeling of him holding her. She felt her eyes well up and held her tears back. No way was she crying in front of Sherlock Holmes. Molly wasn't sad about breaking up with Tom, but she was upset that she may never have a chance to have a family of her own.

"Are you okay?" Sherlock spoke softly in her ear. And that's when the tears fell. He noticed how hard she continued to fight them. "You don't have to hide your emotions, Molly, not in front of me. I'll take care of you." This only made her cry more, allowing herself to really feel the pain she had felt inside. The movie was just ending and she felt herself being rocked gently by the man beside her. He pressed his lips to her forehead, near her hairline. "It'll be okay again, someday. You'll find someone worthy of your love and have that family you've always wanted."

Molly was shocked at his attempts to soothe her, to say the least. She wanted to shout at him, to tell him he was the only one worthy of her love, but she continued to be rocked by him, his head now resting atop of hers. She may have just been imagining things, but Molly swore she felt a tear drop into her hair. Sherlock suddenly lifted her in his arms and carried her to her bedroom. He laid her down and covered her up, placing a kiss to her temple. He was turning to walk out but she made a noise of protest.

"What about you?" she asked, her voice breaking. "You're sad too."

"Molly," he sighed tiredly. "You always take care of me. I think it's time I take care of you for a change."

"Stay," was all she could manage to say. Sherlock slipped into bed beside her. They had only shared a bed once before on the day he faked his death, but that was much different than this current situation. Molly turned to face him and wrapped her arms around him, her head resting over his heart. "Is this okay?"

"Yes," he answered. It was more than okay to him. He found himself wanting more, needing more. Sherlock wanted to lose himself in her embrace. His mind was screaming at him in a voice that suspiciously sounded like Mycroft. Chemical defect be damned! He threw an arm over her as well, his fingers stroking her hair. He was aware for his feelings for the petite pathologist in his arms; he'd been aware since his return, even before then during his hiatus. Sherlock loved her, but felt undeserving of the love she so freely gave him.

Moments later, Molly seemed to have fallen fast asleep. Her breathing was even and the crying had stopped. She was calm and comfortable. Sherlock knew it was a risk, but he had to let it out.

"I love you, Molly Hooper," he whispered in the dark.

"I love you, too," she replied softly, surprising him. They both settled into a deep sleep that night, small smiles gracing their lips.


	2. Faking It

The morning came quickly and Molly woke to find Sherlock looking at her with nothing but adoration. Her heart felt like it may have skipped a beat. If he took such a risk last night, then she would take one today. After giving him a smile, Molly lifted her head up and inched over to press her lips to his. His grip on her tightened as he kissed her back, whispering I love yous to one another. She traced the seam of his lips with her tongue before slipping it inside to meet with his. Sherlock was unsure of who moaned at the contact, but felt nothing other than pure euphoria wash over him. Molly still loved him, still wanted him. His Molly. Sweet, beautiful, passionate Molly.

"My Molly," he said softly in between kisses. Sherlock felt her smile against his lips.

"My Sherlock," she whispered, nuzzling her nose against his before pressing one last kiss to his cheek.

* * *

They ate breakfast in companionable silence, Molly's foot sliding over his calf repeatedly. He loved the comfort of being in her presence. He held her hand across the small table, his thumb stroking her knuckles softly.

"Any plans for today?" he asked. Like clockwork, Molly's phone buzzed with a reminder.

"Oh God, I forgot! I have to cancel it," she remarked.

"Cancel what, exactly?" Sherlock questioned.

"Tom and I were going to taste test some wedding cake samples today…unless…" Molly smirked. Sherlock knew exactly what she was thinking.

"Fake fiancé?" he suggested.

"Fake fiancé," she agreed.

* * *

Two hours later, Sherlock and Molly were trying out a couple of different cakes. She wore her late mother's old engagement ring, as it fit perfectly.

"Mycroft would have been delighted to do this…might be the closest to a romantic entanglement he would ever get," Sherlock joked.

"You're awful," Molly laughed, lightly shoving his shoulder. "Mmm, this is so good!" Her eyes closed, relishing in the rich taste of the red velvet cake.

"You two make the most lovely couple," a woman cooed. "I'm glad to see you're enjoying my cake."

"Oh, you're the baker? This is delicious, really," Molly told her, not so subtly elbowing Sherlock.

"I second that," Sherlock added.

"Why thank you," the woman smiled. "Mind if I ask how you two came to be?"

"Oh, that's easy," Sherlock began. "We have been best friends for years, but like the fool that I am, didn't confess my love to her until a few months ago. I have been in love with this woman all these years and denied myself the simple pleasure of giving her love and receiving her love in return. I never believed I deserved such a brilliant, beautiful woman as herself. I am happy to have finally gotten my head out of my arse and I'm sure she is too."

"Oh, how lovely," she sighed, adoration of their love clearly shown on her face. Molly was dumbstruck at what he said, but she nodded and smiled. When the woman left, Molly turned to face him.

"How much of that was true?" she asked him.

"All of it," Sherlock answered softly. "Yes, you're my best friend, as you have always understood me more than anyone else. Yes, I have been in love with you for all these years, but I have been a fool in denying myself. I still don't quite believe I deserve you but I can say that I haven't been happier than I am now."

"Sherlock," Molly's voice broke, her eyes welled up with tears. "I love you. You can be frustrating and difficult at times, but don't ever think you don't deserve me. I decide who is deserving of me, and you are at the top of that list. Are you really truly happy with me?"

"Of course I am," his gaze pierced her soul…at least that's what it felt like. "I love you so much, Molly. Thank you for everything; for loving me."

"Should we go back to my flat now?" she asked.

"Yes, I think we should," he agreed.


	3. Calm Before the Storm

"You're barmy, that's what you are!" Molly giggled.

"I don't see how it's unheard of…after all, I faked mine," Sherlock pointed out.

"Okay, yes, I see your point, but Sherlock, Cluedo is just a simple game. There are no faked deaths unless you're watching the movie," she explained.

"Movie?" he asked.

"Oh, don't tell me you've never seen the movie," she told him. "Wanna watch it?"

"Might as well," he replied. Greg had no cases for him as of now. They settled in on the sofa together after Molly made popcorn. Their finger brushed together as they both reached in the bowl whilst watching the movie.

"See? Told ya, faked death," Molly pointed out.

"Okay, but I'm sure that Mr. Boddy isn't the actual Mr. Boddy," Sherlock deduced.

"How in the hell?" she gasped. "You sure you've never seen this before?"

"Actually, I have…when I was younger," he smirked. Molly's jaw dropped as she realized she had been played.

"You arse!" she exclaimed, throwing a handful of popcorn at him. Sherlock couldn't help but laugh at her reaction.

"Your face," he chuckled.

"Oh, shut up," Molly rolled her eyes before kissing him. They ended up both laughing against each other's lips as they snogged.

"Mmm," Sherlock hummed as their tongues met. All laughter had ceased now that Molly was sitting in his lap with her arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers twisting his curls gently. He continued to kiss her deeply, his arms tightening around her. "Molly, I…" he faltered, getting lost in her.

"I love you, too," she spoke breathlessly.

"So much," he replied, suddenly pulling her into a hug. Molly continued to cling to him, burying her face against his neck, leaving a trail of small, soft kisses. Sherlock brought his hand up to run his fingers through her hair. All he could think about was that for some reason, this woman loved him more than anything and he felt nothing short of pure happiness.

* * *

Eventually, Molly had fallen asleep in his arms. Sherlock held her close, cradling her head. He soon decided to bring her to bed. His phone buzzed after he had covered Molly up with the duvet. She woke after the call ended.

"Sherlock?" she called out.

"I'm here, darling. I have a client waiting for me at Baker Street, so I can't stay the night," he explained.

"Mmkay," she murmured. "Love you."

"And I, you," he smiled, pressing a kiss to her head. "Sweet dreams."

* * *

Sherlock was frantic…if what Lady Smallwood had said was true, he couldn't allow his relationship with Molly to be revealed. Magnussen would see her as a way to get to him. If he turned to drugs for the case, he'd disappoint her greatly. A vision of her possibly slapping him came to mind. He'd figure it out soon, but as of right now, he felt a pull to go back to Molly's after all. He may not be able to see her again until he figures out what to do with Magnussen.

* * *

A dip in the bed caused Molly to awake, startled.

"I thought you weren't staying the night," she told him.

"I wanted to come back," he replied, wrapping his arms around her. They were silent for a time, basking in the warmth emanating from being so close. "You know, I felt I was losing everyone all at once that night I came by. John and Mary have a baby on the way and you were engaged to be married to someone who wasn't me. I felt alone once more, but you surprised me. Thank you for letting me in that night."

"You're never alone, Sherlock…even if the entire world turns its back on you—and it nearly did, thanks to Moriarty—I'll always stand by you. You will never lose me. Thank you for coming over that night. I didn't know it at the time, but I needed you," Molly spoke softly.

"And you'll always have me," he promised. She drifted off to sleep quickly, whilst Sherlock remained awake, memorizing everything about her in his mind palace.


	4. Letting Her Down

Molly didn't know what to think. It was as if Sherlock dropped off the face of the Earth. She hadn't seen or heard from him for nearly a month since he woke up that next morning, telling her he had a big, confidential case to work on. That was all she knew, so she decided to drop by the Watsons' later after her shift. As if on cue, John, Mary, Sherlock and some unknown young man burst into the lab.

"Sherlock Holmes needs to pee in a cup," John explained. Molly's eyes were already so full of disappointment…something Sherlock didn't want to see. She wasn't supposed to find out about this. "Is he clean?"

"Clean?" she laughed without humor. Soon, the only sound in the lab was Molly's hand making contact with Sherlock's face…three times. "How dare you throw away the beautiful gifts you were born with and how dare you betray the love of your friends!" Her eyes were filled with so much pain. "Say you're sorry!"

"Sorry your engagement's over," he muttered with snark. "Though, I'm fairly grateful for the lack of a ring."

"Stop it," she seethed. "Just stop it."

John felt as if he were witnessing a lovers' quarrel. Mary noticed immediately how ashamed Sherlock look and the way he attempted to reach out to her, but thought better of it. Molly obviously didn't want to be touched right now.

"Come now, love," Mary urged John out of the lab, dragging Billy behind them to go wait out in the hallway.

"You lied to me. Why, Sherlock? I've been worried sick about you," Molly told him.

"I didn't lie. I did this for a case," he replied. "I wasn't going to go this route, but I couldn't find another way."

"There's always a better way than drugs, Sherlock. You could have talked to me and I would have helped…have you learned nothing?" her voice was no longer filled with anger, but a deep sadness. "No case is worth this."

"You're right, but it was either this or put you in danger," he sighed.

"I'm not afraid of the danger. Sherlock, I knew what I was getting into to be with you. I knew the risks that came with our relationship and I've always been ready to take on whatever comes our way. You don't have to face these things alone…not anymore." Molly sounded exhausted, completely drained. So, he told her everything about the Magnussen case but asked her not to say a word about it to anyone for fear of impending danger to her life.

* * *

Mary had insisted that Sherlock and Molly were in a relationship, but John would have none of it. He didn't believe for a moment that his best friend was capable of anything beyond a friendship, but his wife knew better.

Molly knew it was too dangerous for her to see Sherlock, but when she learned he was in the hospital due to a gunshot wound and then went missing for a short period of time, she found out what room was his and waited, since Mary texted and assured her the ambulance was taking him back. His heart lurched upon seeing her. He felt as worn out as she looked. It was late into the night and she obviously hadn't slept.

Not a word was spoken as he was being settled back on the hospital bed, getting hooked up to the morphine drip once more. He felt her hand squeeze his affectionately when the nurse left the room.

"I'm sorry," his voice broke. "Molly, you des—"

"Stop it," she interrupted. "Don't even say it, Sherlock. You do deserve me, and damn it, you'll see it one day. I don't care if it takes the rest of my life…I will make you see how worthy you are."

"I keep letting you down," he told her sadly.

"Budge over," she said suddenly. He did as he was told and Molly carefully climbed onto the bed beside him. "Really should make these bigger." Sherlock chuckled at that.

"I do love you, Molly, truly," Sherlock spoke softly.

"I know," she sniffed, holding back tears. "I love you too, darling. So much."

"You should get some sleep," he told her, pressing a kiss in her hair.

"So should you," she yawned. With a kiss to her forehead, they both drifted off quite quickly. Tomorrow was a new day.

* * *

Sherlock was thankful that Molly couldn't come to his parents' home for Christmas. She probably wouldn't forgive him if he drugged her like the rest of his family. Hell, he had just killed a man in cold blood…surely, she wouldn't love him anymore if she found out, and she was bound to eventually when his body would be recovered from the six month mission. He hadn't any time to say goodbye to her, but left a letter with Mycroft to give her. And then all hell broke loose with Moriarty's face plastered over every screen in London.

"Molly!?" Sherlock called out in the lab.

"Sherlock?" her voice was shaky and coming from inside the supply closet. He opened the door to find her sitting on the floor. Kneeling down beside her, he wrapped his arms around her tightly. "Th—There's no way that he can be back…I did his autopsy. He's dead."

"Yes, he is, but right now I'm thankful to whoever is behind it," he told her.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I'll tell you at Baker Street…you'll be safe there," was all he said.


	5. Pure Love

"Sherlock, we've been here for over an hour…whatever you need to tell me, you can tell me," Molly assured him.

"It's…complicated," he groaned, thrusting his hand through his hair as he paced the sitting room. "You'll hate me and I don't know if I can bear to watch you fall out of love with me."

"I could never hate you," she told him, caressing his face with her hands. "Tell me, Sherlock."

"I…" his voice faltered. "I killed Magnussen. But I made a vow to protect John and Mary at all costs and he was out to destroy them."

"Hey, Sherlock, look at me," she said softly. Hesitantly, he opened his eyes and met hers. He was confused to see such love and devotion in her eyes. "You did what you had to do. He was a very bad man. I still love you. Nothing has changed that."

"Nothing?" he questioned.

"Nothing," she confirmed.

"I almost died today," he confessed. Molly waited for him to continue. "My punishment for killing Magnussen in cold blood was to go on a six month mission for MI6…a mission that would have proven fatal to me. If it hadn't been for the interruption of Moriarty, I would still be on that plane."

"And no one thought I should be allowed to say goodbye?" she asked.

"It wasn't my choice. John and Mary were there because they were with me during Christmas when it happened. I had given a letter to Mycroft to give you. I know it wouldn't have been the best thing, but it was all I could do at the time," Sherlock explained.

"I'm so happy you're alive," Molly cried before kissing him firmly. It wasn't long before they were full on snogging, their tongues intertwining and arms wrapped around one another. They were suddenly in his bed with a trail of clothing leading from the sitting room to the door. They made love for the first time, slowly and sweet. Sherlock allowed himself to get lost within her, never wanting it to end. She cried as they reached the pinnacle together and he kissed her tears away.

He held her close as they basked in the afterglow together, pressing kisses wherever they could reach. Her head lay on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. There was nothing but a comfortable silence between them, fingers tracing skin and lips exploring each other. Sherlock loved her, plain and simple. And Molly loved him right back. Both gave it out unconditionally.

"I love you," she whispered, her breath warm against his chest.

"And I, you," he whispered back. That was the last thing either of them remembered before drifting off to sleep.

* * *

They did well keeping their relationship a secret between them, except that with every passing day, John began to wonder if Mary was right about them. He had seen Sherlock cease texting for a moment to smile at Molly who was holding Rosie in her arms. If you blinked, you'd miss it. At his daughter's christening, the pair of them were acting like a married couple with the way they playfully bickered. The fact that Sherlock was allowing Molly to touch him at all, let alone stand so close to him was interesting in itself. Eventually, he shook away the thought.

"I might as well move in," Molly joked. Over half of her wardrobe was at Baker Street in his closet.

"Mm, yes, I believe you should," Sherlock replied, kissing her cheek. She looked at him incredulously.

"You're serious?" she asked. "Won't someone notice? We're still not in the clear and not much closer to figuring out who's behind the Moriarty scheme."

"Then we'll wait until we know," he remarked. "But, I am quite serious…unless you don't want to."

"Silly man," she laughed. "Of course I want to." They shared a kiss that tasted like coffee and blueberry scones. "I must be off. Any chance you're coming into the lab today?"

"Maybe," he winked.

"I'll take that as a yes," Molly smiled before going out the door.

* * *

Eventually, Molly learned about Mary's past from Mary herself. There were people after her now. Ghosts from her past were finally catching up to her. Molly volunteered to watch Rosie when John had said something about going after Mary with Sherlock. She knew she'd get the full story afterwards. And she was told everything after the confrontation with Vivian Norbury. Mary had been shot in the shoulder from jumping in front of Sherlock, but she was going to be fine. John was staying at the hospital with her.

"Who's the sweetest little baby girl?" Molly cooed, cradling Rosie in her arms on the sofa. Sherlock watched from his bedroom door. He was exhausted to say the least. He felt his heart swell at the sight of Molly holding their goddaughter. He moved to sit down beside them. Molly flashed him the sweetest smile he had ever seen…a smile meant just for him. Rosie looked up at him with curiosity and reached out to grab his nose. Sherlock made a noise of discomfort and sent the baby Watson into a fit of giggles.

"We should have one," he finally spoke.

"What?" Molly asked with surprise.

"A baby…we should have one together," Sherlock elaborated. "I would like to." Molly couldn't stop her eyes from welling up with tears.

"I'd like that too," she replied, her voice thick with emotion. Nothing more was spoken in that moment as she laid her head on his shoulder. Sherlock was now cradling Rosie and Molly watched as he looked on in fascination of their goddaughter's curiosity. She played with his fingers, sometimes sticking them in her mouth. He would tickle her to elicit the mellifluous sound of her laughter. Eventually, Molly had fallen asleep and he kissed the top of her head. Rosie wasn't far behind, as she gripped his hand as if it were a favourite plush animal. Yes, this is what Sherlock wanted with Molly; a family of their own.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** YES MARY LIVES! More twists to the story!


	6. The Plot Thickens

Sherlock was tossing and turning. Images of Redbeard kept blurring, fading out into something he couldn't quite make out. Though this dream wasn't frightening, he always ended up feeling panicked, which would bring him out of his slumber. These dreams started after he had taken on Faith Smith's case; the night they were out and about in London all night and into morning. He had stopped her from committing suicide and he felt happy about it, but her case with her father was most interesting.

Looking at the time, he saw it was nearly four in the morning. His mind was made up as he left to take a cab, his Belstaff thrown over his pajamas. The dream kept becoming more vivid and it always left him feeling sad for some odd reason. It was a happy memory from what he could remember. He let himself into Molly's flat and quietly moved to her bedroom after discarding his coat on the sofa.

"Mm, Sherlock?" she mumbled sleepily.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," he whispered.

"S"okay," she replied. Molly turned over and snuggled up against him. "So warm." He smiled, wrapping his arms around her. He kissed the top of her head and nuzzled at her hair, breathing in the scent of her cherry blossom shampoo. He loved her so much. Sherlock knew that if anything were to happen to her, his heart wouldn't be able to take it. He felt that he would crumble into pieces if something or someone were ever to take her away from him.

* * *

John was still mad at him for putting Mary in a dangerous situation and they hardly spoke to each other since, but Mary had healed up fine and promised Sherlock she'd get him to come 'round again. After all, it was her choice to jump in front of him.

 _Anyone._

That was the word that haunted him. That's the one word that turned Faith Smith's life around. Her father was going to kill anyone he wanted. Sherlock knew he'd have to take a different approach to this case, since Culverton liked to hide in plain sight. John finally came around to assist when they met up with the criminal in question. Upon Faith's entrance in the morgue at Smith's hospital, Sherlock's world turned upside down. Faith Smith had never seen the likes of Sherlock Holmes and he noticed quite a few differences between her and the woman who came to him as a client.

Sherlock felt as if he was losing his mind. His deductive skills and attention to detail was slipping and he had no idea why. He swore he saw Culverton pick up the scalpel but John was shouting at him that he never did. Suddenly, it was shown that Sherlock held it in his hand. He felt woozy, eventually falling to the ground in a graceless heap as everything went black.

He woke hours later in a hospital bed, but not at Bart's. Culverton was there. He said it three times. He didn't want to die. By the time John decided to return, Molly alongside him, after dropping off his old cane earlier, they both found Culverton attempting to smother Sherlock.

"What the hell are you doing!?" Molly shouted shoving Culverton away from the hospital bed. She quickly proved that she was a force to be reckoned with. Sherlock was still catching his breath as he looked on.

Authorities came by after the fourth listening device was found. Why did they always stop at three? Sherlock was transferred to Bart's to stay overnight. Molly stayed with him, lying beside him. He told her everything the case entailed, including the fact he still wondered who that was that posed as Faith to begin with. She hadn't been wrong about Culverton, but yet, had nothing to do with him.

"John told me you were high again…at least he thought you were," she told him.

"I wasn't, I promise," he assured her. "I believe I may have been drugged somehow without my knowledge, causing me to hallucinate a bit, but I think that's what Smith wanted."

"I almost lost you," Molly said sadly. "Again." She kissed his unshaven face and nuzzled her nose against him, despite the prickly feeling it caused.

"I know. I'm sorry," Sherlock told her.

"It's not your fault," she replied.

"I know." Sherlock wasn't apologizing because he felt at fault. He was apologizing because he knows how painful it feels to even imagine losing the person you love most in the world. He had pictured it before, how painful it would be to lose Molly and she had been close to losing him several times since they've known each other. He didn't want her to hurt anymore.

* * *

"Hey you," Molly smiled as she entered 221B. He was studying a piece of paper intensely. "Everything alright?"

"Look at this," he told her. She walked over to stand beside him and saw the message that was written in invisible ink.

 _Miss me?_

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Just to be clear...since Mary is still alive in this fic, the events of TLD have been changed slightly. I still imagine John would be peeved at Sherlock for nearly getting his wife killed. I still believe John would be seeing a new therapist after the events of TST. Sherlock is not high off his arse in this version, though Culverton finds a way to secretly drug him whilst at the hospital. Eurus as Faith...I left out the photograph of the real Faith Smith because a sober Sherlock would notice it wasn't the same girl. I know it may not all add up, but I'm trying lol.


	7. The Pure and Simple Truth

Molly was lounging on her sofa, eating chow mein when the news broke on the telly. She dropped her takeaway on the table.

 _Explosion on Baker Street at the residence of famous hat detective, Sherlock Holmes._

"No," was all she could bare to say. Only a couple of days earlier, they had gotten into a domestic that was completely blown out of proportion. Sherlock had been insistent on ending things only to keep her safe from danger and from a broken heart if something ever happened to him. Molly had argued with him on it, raised voices and all. He had spouted off cruel things to make her hate him. She knew he didn't mean any of it, but it didn't make it hurt any less. They hadn't seen or heard from each other since.

She had called Greg to get an update on Sherlock's whereabouts and if he was okay. All she knew was that he, John and Mycroft were fine as well as Mrs. Hudson. It was only a few hours later when she was making her tea and her mobile rang. His name lit up on the screen, and though things had ended terribly, she still cared for his wellbeing. She did wait until the last ring to answer.

"Hello, Sherlock, are you alright?" she asked. He could tell from watching her on the screen at Sherrinford that she had had a terrible day.

"I'm…fine," he answered with hesitance. "Molly, there's something I need you to do for me."

"I'm not at the lab," she told him quickly.

"It's not about that," he assured her. "I need you to say these words for me."

"What words?" she questioned, teary-eyed.

"I love you," he spoke as if each word were a separate sentence.

"Oh, now you want me to say it?" she scoffed. "Leave me alone." She had motioned to hang up until a shout came through the speaker.

"Molly, no, please don't," he panicked. She put the phone back to her ear but said nothing. Their time was running out. "Molly, please," his voice broke.

"You say it first," she told him.

"I love you," he responded instantly. "Honeybee, I love you so much."

 _Honeybee!?_ John thought to himself in surprise. _Perhaps Mary had been right after all_. Mycroft wasn't the least bit surprised. He had known for a while now of his brother's romantic entanglement with Doctor Hooper.

"I'm sorry, Molly. I'm so very sorry for the things I said," he apologized. The timer was at ten seconds. "Please say it."

"I love you," she spoke quietly. The line went dead and the video feed disconnected.

* * *

It was late—nearly midnight—when Mycroft showed up with a team of special forces to check her flat for any bombs. Though Eurus had said she never planted any, they didn't want to take the risk.

"Brilliant, just what I need," she muttered.

"Miss Hooper, despite what you may believe, Sherlock's apology was sincere," Mycroft told her.

"I know," she replied.

"He should never have tried to end things with you," the eldest Holmes continued.

"You know, for someone known as 'the ice man,' you sure care about sentiment," Molly retorted.

"I suppose you're right, but I do care for my brother's happiness…even if he is being an utter fool," Mycroft explained. "I have grown quite fond of you, myself. It would be a shame if you two couldn't work things out."

"Is he okay?" she asked.

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" he spoke, giving her the best smile he could muster in this situation. Sherlock was walking towards them. "Congratulations, by the way."

"But how—?" she began to question but he walked away.

"Molly," Sherlock breathed. "My Molly." He held her close and she let him. After all, they had both been close to losing one another. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, Sherlock," she assured him. "It'll all be okay."

"It's not okay," he cried. "God, I would do anything to erase the way I've treated you and all the times I let you down."

"I know, darling, I know," Molly told him, grasping his curls gently. It relaxed him to have her fingers in his hair. She felt his lips pressing against her neck mingled with the tears that fell from his eyes.

"Sorry to interrupt," Mycroft sounded, "but your flat is clear."

"And the cameras?" Sherlock asked.

"Gone, I assure you," Mycroft replied.

"Cameras?" Molly gasped.

"I'll explain inside," he told her.

* * *

After all was explained about Sherrinford, Eurus, and what happened to Victor, she used her first aid kit on his splintered hands. He told her his realization that he had never had a dog called Redbeard and the recurring nightmare he had been having since Eurus posed as Faith Smith. He had been slowly remembering the memories he buried long ago in order to tell himself a better story. Molly's heart went out to him and she held him in her arms.

"Oh God," Molly groaned, quickly pushing him away from her.

"Molly?" he asked with concern. She had ran to the bathroom as fast as possible. He heard her wretching and went to her aid. He sat on the floor beside her, rubbing circles against her lower back beneath her jumper. After she was finished, she rested her head on his shoulder, her forehead beaded up with sweat.

"It's hot in here," she spoke wearily.

"Come on, sweetheart, you should brush your teeth and get some rest," he told her, helping her up.

Sherlock was already in bed clad only in his tartan pajama pants that still remained in her dresser. Molly climbed into bed, now in a pair of shorts and a tank top, and immediately snuggled up to him.

"Surely you've deduced it by now," she said quietly.

"I'd rather you tell me," he replied.

"Well then," Molly adjusted her head to look up at him, "I'm pregnant." Though he knew it beforehand, his breath caught in his throat when she voiced it. His hand smoothed over her belly, caressing it.

"I love you, Molly," he said softly. "And I love our baby."

"I love you too," she told him, kissing his collarbone. "Don't you ever try to push me away again, Sherlock Holmes."

"I promise I won't," he murmured. "You're stuck with me." She lifted her head to meet his eyes.

"Good," Molly giggled, "because you're stuck with me too, you git."

"I wouldn't have it any other way." Sherlock nibbled on her ear playfully, causing her to laugh so hard, she snorted. "Mm, you're adorable." He was tickling her sides now, hovering above her. She couldn't gather enough oxygen to tell him to stop, and instead opted to smack him with a pillow.

"I win," she smirked, her breathing heavy.

"Nope," he grinned, popping the 'p.' He pressed his lips to hers tenderly, his fingers tracing the edge of her tank top.

"Mmmm," she sounded against his mouth, her tongue tracing his lips.

"Allow me to make it up to you, honeybee," he whispered. Sherlock kissed both of her cheeks, her forehead and her nose which scrunched up at his touch. He trailed his lips down the side of her neck, gently suckling at her skin. His fingers traced up her arms and pulled her tank top's straps down and kissed her shoulder before capturing her lips once more.

Molly was lost in the sensation of his calloused hands on her skin as he continued to lavish her with kisses. Her top was long gone and he was pressing his lips to her belly as he told their unborn child how much Daddy loved them. It was enough to make her feel weepy. She loved the way Sherlock made her toes curl when they were joined as one. He was so gentle with her, possibly fearing he'd hurt the baby which made her stifle a giggle. She bit her lip to prevent it from escaping. Neither could tell where one began and the other ended, nor did they care.

Sherlock thought back to the old quote, "The truth is rarely pure and never simple." _False_ , he thought, for he was irrevocably in love with Molly Hooper, plain and simple.

 **The End.**


End file.
